


Divergence

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Glorfindel finds a gift in his bed.





	Divergence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxdeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdeer/gifts).



> A/N: Kind of a redo/second take of foxdeer’s Haldir in a bunny costume request as a thank you for the lovely comment~ 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His arm’s still a little sore, and he stops outside his door to massage his shoulder—a quick rub, and the pain’s gone again. He took a spill off his horse in dodging a warg, but the attack cost the warg its head, and he was vindicated in the end. Asfaloth still neighed apologetically all the way home. Hopefully a good night’s rest will soothe out his guilt, and the same will bring Glorfindel some peace. The real trouble of the day wasn’t the dangers of the hunt, but that he spent that hunt _alone_.

He’s sure there’s a perfectly good reason for it. Even now, a few hours into the early night, Glorfindel has half a mind to go knock on his partner’s door. He hesitates, toying with the idea, but ultimately twists the handle and pushes his own door open—he’s just too _tired_.

He gets far enough into the room to have closed the door and shed his cloak onto the floor. Then he catches sight of the bed. None of the lanterns are lit, but the starlight from his balcony depicts enough of the scene. Haldir is spread luxuriously across the mattress, dressed in an absurd white robe and a headband sporting long, floppy ears reminiscent of a rabbit. The material is thick and fluffy, the robe clasped across his waist by a single strip of fabric. The two sides drape open across his chest, revealing a smooth expanse of creamy skin, His pecs almost entirely exposed. His legs are similarly scandalous, the robes barely covering the tops of his thighs. His golden hair is tied behind his head in an elegant bun, perhaps to keep from tangling with the ears. Propped up in Glorfindel’s pillows, he looks something out of the ancient brothels of Gondolin, back when there was easy splendor and time enough for such frivolities. If Glorfindel had found temptation like this in one of those establishments, he might not have learned to use a sword at all—he would’ve spent all he had exploring such sexuality. 

Even though the scene is clearly meant to be _sensual_ , Haldir is tense; Glorfindel can see it in the tight line of his lips, the heat of his gaze, and the white of his knuckles in the sheets. He waits quietly for Glorfindel’s verdict, and Glorfindel stalls in reporting it aloud. He takes his time sweeping slowly up and down Haldir’s strong body: the light fabric stretched across taut muscles and the hard lines wrapped in a soft layer of white. The costume catches the moonlight; he couldn’t have picked a better colour. The only thing that mars the pale picture is the bright pink on Haldir’s cheeks.

Finally, Glorfindel muses, deliberately idle, “I did think it a strange choice, for you to have come all this way and yet _not_ ride forth with me. Is this what you spent all day doing? Now I feel foolish for ever considering you had come for anyone else...”

Haldir ignores the last sentence, as though unwilling to acknowledge such a foolish notion as an interest in any other, and he answers instead, “Procuring it, not creating it.” Glorfindel opens his mouth to ask who could’ve possibly had such a garment lying about, but Haldir knowingly cuts him off to say, “The name of the clothier is unimportant. I am the one that sought this out for you.” His lips quirk up at the end when he explains, “I had thought it might ‘spice things up,’ so to speak, since you seem to enjoy the hunt. I invite you to pursue _this_ creature.” He rises as he talks, moving onto all fours, and it gives Glorfindel a chance to see the large, fluffy sphere attached to the back of the robes. The quaint tuft somehow manages to make even Haldir look _adorable_ , and it’s all Glorfindel can do not to grin to the point of tears. 

Attempting some composure, he parries, “I do not like to hunt innocent rabbits.”

Haldir stretches one arm forward, moving gracefully on hands and knees. He crawls smoothly across the sheets, swaying his hips more than Glorfindel thinks must be necessary, but it works, drawing Glorfindel’s eyes straight to the exaggerated tail. Haldir doesn’t stop until he’s right at the edge of the bed, and then he lifts a hand to paw once at Glorfindel’s belt. Looking up through thick lashes, he purrs, “I am hardly innocent.”

Glorfindel searches for a retort and instead finds himself leaning down, hooking a finger under Haldir’s chin, and lifting him up. They meet halfway for a kiss fiercer than Glorfindel intends, but Haldir always gets him going. Haldir surges back into him, hot and a little wet and at just the right angle. Haldir knows just how Glorfindel likes to be kissed. Glorfindel returns the favour, and by the time they’re done, his pulse is racing. The lonely hunt now seems entirely worth it, knowing what was being prepared instead. Glorfindel runs his thumb along Haldir’s plush bottom lip and rasps, “Is this your way of paying for the accommodations?”

Haldir snorts, “If that were the case, I would be in Lord Elrond’s quarter’s, not yours.”

“But you are in _my_ quarters,” Glorfindel notes, grin growing, “and that makes me your host.” This time when he dives in, he holds Haldir’s face in both hands, letting his fingers slide back along Haldir’s cheeks to brush his plush ears. It isn’t the same thrill as running his fingers through Haldir’s long hair, but it is a _new_ thrill, and even better is that Haldir hardly kisses like a rabbit, unless it’s a rabid one; he meets Glorfindel with full force, hands sliding to Glorfindel’s hips. Glorfindel bends forward to drop one arm around Haldir’s waist, and then he’s hiking Haldir up and guiding him back. 

He carries Haldir across the mattress, climbing up himself, until he’s lying Haldir back amidst the pillows, Haldir’s legs bent and spread to accommodate him. He kisses Haldir down, until they’re lying flat, and he can grind Haldir into the pillows with his mouth. In between sizzling kisses, Glorfindel purrs, “This rabbit was very easy to capture.”

“Ah,” Haldir returns, pausing once to fill Glorfindel’s mouth with tongue. “But you have not conquered it yet.”

Keeping their mouths busy, Glorfindel lets his hands stray. He traces Haldir’s sides, rifling through the fur, soaking in the familiar shape, and ducking lower to run his greedy hands along Haldir’s thighs; his skin’s even softer than the fur. Glorfindel palms it like a starving man—he always grows addicted early. Every time they’re apart, he forgets just how intoxicating Haldir’s body is. He remembers the wild _lust_ in his mind, but that’s no match for truly _feeling_ it. Haldir’s legs spread wider for him, letting him press in closer, until he can grind his crotch along Haldir’s. The short skirt rides up Haldir’s waist with each roll of Glorfindel’s hips, and Glorfindel’s hands follow the path of exposure, until it becomes clear that Haldir wears nothing underneath.

Haldir rifles one hand through the golden tufts just above Haldir’s shaft, intent on truly _starting_ , but Haldir turns his head away from the next kiss to murmur, “Wait; you are still in all your clothes...”

“Does it bother you?” Glorfindel chuckles. “To be in your nice new white robes, and be taken by a dirty hunter?” He hasn’t changed out of his tunic and trousers—he was spared the spray of warg blood, but he is smeared with dirt he’d forgotten until now. 

Haldir merely grins and volleys, “You forget: _I_ am the one that lives in the woods. To me, you still look a pretty lord.”

“But you have made yourself prettier,” Glorfindel teases. Both hands now between Haldir’s legs, he holds Haldir’s thigh in place and runs the other down past Haldir’s cock, sliding along his taut sac and into the crease of cheeks. He presses into it, cutting off Haldir’s response; Haldir gasps instead and arches into him. Glorfindel slides through until he finds the puckered ring of muscle he’s looking for. It’s already wet; he can feel the liquid dribbling out of it and smeared around the edge. Holding steady to catch Haldir’s eye, he thrusts his finger inside all at once.

Haldir cries out, arms darting to wrap around Glorfindel’s shoulders, but it’s as Glorfindel expected; his finger sucks right it, easy to push straight to the knuckle. He worms it around inside just to be sure, enjoying the velvety touch and the strange sense of suction, and especially the way that Haldir writhes beneath him. He purrs appreciatively, “You have prepared yourself for me... how eager you are tonight...”

“Some beasts like to be tamed,” Haldir grunts, only to groan when Haldir pulls his finger free. It’s almost a shame; he’s always loved fingering Haldir. Haldir makes such lovely noises, and he squirms with abandon; he makes love as wild as he lives. But Glorfindel’s also glad now that he doesn’t have to wait; the rabbit analogy’s made him harder than he’d care to admit.

He all but rips his own trousers open, tearing frantically at the ties, until he can pull himself out. Grabbing his cock in one hand and using the other to hold Haldir down by the stomach, he rubs himself first between Haldir’s cheeks, then along Haldir’s sac, then once along the long line of Haldir’s shaft, jutting up between them. Haldir shivers for it, his arms tensing around Glorfindel’s shoulders. Then Glorfindel drops again to press against Haldir’s hole, his fingers repositioning to pry it open. He can hear Haldir’s teeth grit together. He can feel Haldir’s fingers digging into his back.

He pushes inside anyway. They’ve had rough fucks in the wild without any oil at all, and if Haldir wanted this to be one of the times they gently made love, he wouldn’t have worn such a skimpy little outfit to Glorfindel’s bed. 

Glorfindel presses forward until he’s halfway inside, then he pauses just to watch Haldir arch and moan, head thrown back and lean neck bared for the taking. Glorfindel bends over him, tempted, but instead just takes the first minute to savour the feeling, the sheer ecstasy of being encased in Haldir’s body. Haldir is blissfully tight, scorching hot, and wondrously soft. Glorfindel pistons in just to feel it, enjoying the slick slide in and out, before he starts burrowing deeper, filling Haldir as much as he can.

In quick, staccato thrusts, Glorfindel makes his way inside; wet and stretched, Haldir opens for him. The otherwise quiet night fills with the squelching noises of it, amidst their heavy breathing and the slapping of skin-on-skin. Glorfindel can already smell it—sweat, oil, and _sex_. He leans just low enough to rest his forehead against Haldir’s, making sure Haldir’s legs are still bent back enough to provide the deepest angle, and then he pulls half way out again, only to slam inside.

He starts fucking Haldir quickly, desperately, and finds himself attached to Haldir’s mouth again. He has all of Haldir’s face to play with, all of Haldir’s open mouth, parts of his broad shoulders and half of his firm chest, but Haldir’s lips are too enticing, and Glorfindel gets trapped there. He shoves his tongue into Haldir’s mouth like he shoves his cock into Haldir’s ass, and Haldir moans around it and sucks him deeper from both ends. Glorfindel’s hair spills down around them, draped along the fabric ears. He can still _feel_ the fur just beyond reach of his cheeks. But Haldir’s what he focuses on. He takes Haldir with the powerful, merciless sort of strokes that only another warrior could take, because he wants it _intense_ ; he wants the bruises of this to linger and remind him long after Haldir’s ridden off.

Haldir seems to agree. He’s probably leaving finger-shaped grooves right through Glorfindel’s tunic. His knees lift to cling to Glorfindel’s sides, and his teeth bite into Glorfindel’s lip whenever Glorfindel doesn’t kiss him into submission enough. Glorfindel swallows all his screams and pounds him into oblivion. It isn’t until Glorfindel’s nearly at the edge himself that he squirms one hand between their grinding bodies, wrapping thickly around Haldir’s cock. Haldir lets out a ragged cry that Glorfindel kisses away, pumping him in time to their thrusts. Every time he gives Haldir’s cock a little squeeze, Haldir bucks back into him. Haldir leaves him breathless. Glorfindel surges forward anyway, overrun with adrenaline.

He’s overwhelmed and comes in a dizzying spell of white, bursting deep inside Haldir’s channel. Haldir clenches around him, only to spasm a few thrusts later and follow, splattering Glorfindel’s fingers. Glorfindel pumps the hot liquid right out, doing the same into Haldir’s rear. Even after he’s spent, left weightless and reeling from the orgasm, he keeps thrusting from muscle memory; Haldir’s body is so _good_ to be in. 

But Haldir eventually gives his chest a tired shove, and he grinds to a halt, then begrudgingly pulls out, trailing a stick mess with him. It doesn’t matter; they ruin each other’s sheets on every visit. He rolls onto his side to give Haldir some air whilst gasping for his own. 

It takes several minutes to come down, filled with a glorious sort of cooling feeling and the warm comfort of Haldir at his side. Even dressed so cutely, Haldir’s very much his equal; they lie together, sturdy and tall, head to toe.

When Glorfindel can finally talk again and the euphoria of sex has dulled enough to think, he says, “Stay in Imladris.”

He doesn’t turn to look, because he knows what he’ll see and doesn’t want it, but Haldir’s sad smile is still visible in his peripherals. 

With a weary sigh, Glorfindel asks, “Was the costume a consolation present for your departure?”

“No,” Haldir answers, “the sex was.” When Glorfindel does turn his head enough to playfully glare, Haldir drops the amused grin and quietly adds, “You could always come south with me.”

It’s tempting. It truly is. In these moments more than ever, all Glorfindel wants is to walk with Haldir amongst the ever-growing trees of Lothlórien. 

But that isn’t his path. It isn’t what he was allowed back for. He rolls onto his side so he can kiss Haldir’s cheek and admit, “I wish I could.”

Haldir merely sighs; he already knows.

But they’ll find each other again. They always do. There are times amongst the centuries, short but meaningful, where they can afford to just follow their hearts. Glorfindel plucks idly of the white fur along Haldir’s arm, thinking of what sort of treat he’ll have to cook up next time, and then nudges Haldir’s hips with his own, because the costume looks even better so thoroughly debauched. Haldir’s spent cock lies across the scrunched up waist, his thighs stained with both their release. Glorfindel wonders suddenly if the tail was uncomfortable, digging into Haldir’s tail bone, and that perhaps they should do it truly like _beasts_ next time—he wouldn’t mind mounting this sort of rabbit.

He rolls his hips again, now fantasizing about a Haldir bunny bent over and presenting, and Haldir asks silkily, “Do you want another already, my lord? You are insatiable.”

“Good,” Glorfindel concedes. “I know how much rabbits like to copulate.”

Haldir laughs, and Glorfindel kisses him again before flipping them both over.


End file.
